


Go to Sleep

by Memequeen_Luvs_Chocolate



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ever - Freeform, I'm Sorry, M/M, and therefore defaults to asshole, au where jami & luci met before the world got fucked and are friends, both got internalized homophobia, don't touch lucio's notebook, enjoy kids, i tried to write fluff at 5 am, its gay, its kinda sad tbh but the story itself aint, junkrat doesn't know how to deal with intimacy, junkrat is one seriously clueless motherfucker, lucio's crushin harder than a 12 yr-old schoolgirl, thats enough of a warning, this doesn't even make sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 15:58:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7469859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Memequeen_Luvs_Chocolate/pseuds/Memequeen_Luvs_Chocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Lúcio let me <i>go</i>." "No."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Go to Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Random-ass AU where Lúcio and Junkrat met before the world went to shit and have had plenty of time to become pretty good friends. Lúcio is literally a twelve year-old girl with a crush and Junkrat is too fucking dense to realize it. Cheesy bullshit ensues. This was originally me using Lúcio's heritage to write fluff but then my mind went on a tangent. Don't let me try to write happy stuff at 5am ok? Ok.

He's lucky Lúcio is as nice as he is, even he can admit that much. If it wasn't for the combination of the Brazilian's human decency and the fact that Jamison happened to be one of the only friends Lúcio had from before the world went to shit _that's actually still alive,_ Junkrat would most definitely be on his way to a high-security prison right now, or worse, to someone with the know-how to pry his secrets out of his brain.  
He shudders at the thought.  
  
But, as it turns out, Lúcio _is_  a kind enough man that he always helps his friends, even if aforementioned friends have managed to get themselves labeled international convicts since they'd last seen each other.  
  
So, instead of a padlocked cell, Junkrat is sitting inside the saddest excuse for a garden shed he's ever come across, cloaked in a grungy lime-green sweater he stole off a street corner that's at least three sizes too big for his lean frame, gaze fixated on the far wall. Outside, rain drums down against the tin structure relentlessly, seeping in through leaks in the roof and walls and landing on what little furniture is inside, gradually soaking the interior. The rain isn't the only thing slipping in through holes in the walls however, as the storm outside is accompanied by a cold temperature that, paired with the raindrops, has lowered the temperature to Brazil's equivalent of freezing.  
An exasperated sigh, followed by an unconscious movement to curl in on himself and cover as much of his body in the ugly sweater as he can, choosing to ignore the prevalent knowledge that his attempt to cease his uncontrollable shivering is useless as the sweater does _absolutely nothing_  in regards to repelling the temperature. Junkrat really hates the cold.

Crimson irises subconsciously trail over to Lúcio who, from a seated position, has his back pressed against the wall on his right, a notebook in one hand while the other clutches a pen and feverishly jots down what Junkrat can only assume is a message of sorts. His dreadlocks, having been previously released from the ponytail that commonly crowns his head, cascade down the sides of his facial features, which are contorted into an expression of heavy concentration, and shoulders in a disorderly manner that Junkrat finds inexplicably, _intriguing_. But he's not gonna think about that.

"Ey Lúci, wat'cha writn'?"

Lúcio's head rapidly shoots up at the other's addressing, his posture tensing with surprise, confusion, and agitation, but for a moment so brief it could easily be dismissed as nonexistent, eyes blinking momentarily before his posture relaxes just barely at the realization that the ridge voice is simply his friend.

"Oh, you mean this? Ah it-t's just a song I'm working on, trying to finish  up the tune to last verse, heh."

Eyebrows raise for a brief moment, a burst of curiosity flashing across the junker's expression at the prospect of a song. Admittedly, he hadn't heard any of Lúcio's music, but if Brazilian news articles were anything to go by, it was definitely worth listening to.

"A _song_  ay? Wat's 't ab't?"

"Ah well, it's not really finished...no lyrics yet...but, it's, _well_  it's about, _peace_.  In simplest terms."

Lúcio displays a half-smile following his butchered description, curling in on himself and directing his gaze to focus on anything except the other person in the room.  
The slightest of smirks tugs at the junker's lips, arms daring to inch away from their heat-conserving hold around his legs to cross over his chest. He's not sure why Lúcio seems nervous of all things regarding the song, he's a performer right? Performers can't get nervous about their songs, how are they supposed to perform their songs if they're nervous about them??

"A song ab't _peace_ , eh? 'N wth' no lyrics! Intrestin', lemme hear."

Lúcio is so surprised by the request he actually drops the notebook. Nobody’s ever heard a song of his _before_  it was finished, and Lúcio  _highly_ prefers it stay that way. Unfinished songs were unclear slates, there was no way to know how one would react to it, and the fact that _Junkrat_ of all people was the listener??

He's not sure if he could bare the other's undoubtedly humiliating words.

After blinking a few times to finally clear the shock off his face and haphazardly scrambling to seize his notebook once again, Lúcio briefly shakes his head, coughing suddenly in an attempt to clear his voice.

"W-Whoa— wait _what_ — y-you wanna _hear_  it?? I-I mean I w-well I'm-I mean— ...didn't really take you for a music-lover really, heh— n-not that there's anything _wrong_  with it..! Just...it's not, done...no lyrics..."

Junkrat lets his eyes widen briefly in amusement at Lúcio's inexplicable franticity, letting an airy chuckle escape him before plastering on an unaffected expression, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

"So? Lemme hear th' tune."

"I– Junkrat how does that even _work_??"

"'Dunno, hum it 'r smthn'? Yer' th' musician aincha'?"

"I—"

Lúcio glances directly at the junker, his expression contorted into a mixture of exasperation and desperation, silently willing the other to drop the request. Junkrat however has absolutely no intention of desire to do so, and keeps his expression unfaltering, raising an eyebrow in response and lightly shrugging his shoulders. And when Lúcio still doesn't back down, Junkrat's expression drops into a disappointed frown— _oh no._  No no _no_ he _knows_ that look, that's the look Junkrat wears before switching to what Lúcio has dubbed 'the spoiled stare' because as long as Junkrat is wearing that look he can get whatever the hell he wants _especially_  if it's from Lúcio—aaaand yup, there it is, there's the look, the big, round eyes and the silently pleading frown and— _goddammit why does he have to be cute._    
Lúcio groans.

"Ok _ok_  I'll—I guess I than think of _something_ just—just cut _that_ out."

He opts to ignore Junkrat's arrogant and triumphant smirk as his fingers hurriedly leaf through the pages of the notebook, only stopping once they almost reached the end and then moving to firmly hold the sides of the book, securing it right in front of the musician's face as his eyes dart over the writing. Junkrat's eyes narrow ever-so-slightly, watching the other intently and awaiting his next move with a striking curiosity.

Finally, Lúcio lets his posture relax just a drop more, setting the book down in his lap and leaning against the shed wall. He takes a deep breath, before barely parting his lips and letting a calm, yet reviving tune echo into the space between them.

The notes hit Junkrat's ears and it feels like every nerve he possesses has been electrified. The relentless drumming of the rain outside seems to vanish, and any lethargic thoughts and feelings have suddenly been muted, he feels more awake and alert than he can remember feeling in a long time as he listens further.  
Junkrat shifts from his seated position, sitting himself up straighter, eyes progressively widening with shock and astonishment as he gapes at the unnoticing singer, who's eyes are straining to focus on _anything_  except the man before him.

Lúcio's voice is entrancing, light and melodic with an incredibly diverse range, a near-polar opposite to how he sounds when talking. He raises and lowers his pitch at the perfect moments, not a single note is missed as he hits them all with an accuracy Junkrat only believed could amount from tireless years of professional vocal training, something he _knows_  Lúcio definitely did not have.

The junker is completely mesmerized.

The song itself isn't too long, that or Lúcio decided to cut it short, but it's still more than enough to leave Junkrat stunned into silence.  
It's only when Lúcio's voice finally fades into quiet and he dares sneak  a glance back towards the junker that Junrkat's brain turns itself back on, initiating a shake of his head to rid himself of the remainder of the trance and a few sets or rapid blinking, ending with his still-astonished gaze fixated on the floor.  
_Woah._

"S-So...wh—whadya think...?"

This time it's Junrkat's turn to rapidly look up with a shocked expression, except that his astonishment doesn't fade at the discovery of who's assessing, if anything it solidifies.

Lúcio's appearance, which had faded from it's previous uncertainty into a sheepish expression suddenly contorts into a questioning demeanor once catching sight of Junkrat's astonished face. His eyes narrow with curiosity in such a minimal amount it's practically unnoticeable, and his upper teeth move to bite down on his lower lip.

"J-Junkrat? Ar-are you——"

" _'It ws' beautiful._ "

It's Lúcio's turn to widen his eyes in astonishment, so stunned by what the other just heard he's got half the mind to ask the junker for clarification because he _definitely_ heard that wrong, right? There's no way that's what Junkrat had actually said, _right_?? However, judging by the unflinching look on his face, it's probably not too far off.  
_Oh._

"I-I w-w-well I—— _oh_."

Comes the convoluted response that's all he can managed to will himself to say between his astonishment, deciding it's probably better to shut up rather than risk embarrassing himself any further.

It's at that moment when Lúcio realizes the two of them have been staring at each other for a _very_  long time. This is awkward. This should stop. _Why_  should it stop? You like it don't you? Yes—I, _no_  I _do not_ , and because it _has_  to. Why does it have to? _It just does_.  
Internal argument aside, Lúcio then forces out the first idea he can come up with in an attempt to break the eye contact—

"We should sleep."

— _and immediately regrets it_.

Now, going to sleep would have been a wonderful idea, if it weren't for the fact that the tiny shed only retained enough space to house _one_  mattress and _one_  blanket. Which means they're going to have to _share_.

_Wonderful._

"Uh, sure"

Well, there's the junker's reply, and now it's too late to recall his idea. **_Wonderful_**.

Trying to suppress his newfound worry, Lúcio pushes himself away from the metal wall he's been leaning against, crawling over to the mattress and dropping down on his back unceremoniously. After draping part of the blanket over himself, he rolls onto his side, where he watches Junkrat follow him, also dropping against the mattress onto his back right next to him, before pulling the remainder of the blanket over himself and turning on his side away from Lúcio.  
The musician breaths a silent sigh of relief, before turning onto his back once again, and realizing how tired he _actually_  is, and, before he knows it, Lúcio is fast asleep, all concerns of the man next to him dismissed until morning.

* * *

For what feels like an eternity, it's completely silent, the only exception being the drumming of the rain outside that now feels miles away. In the darkness of the shed, Junkrat lies on his back, still awake, staring up at the ceiling. The soft and steady pattern of breaths originating from the body next to his informs him that Lúcio's _finally_  asleep, good thing too, he'd been acting _off_ all night, to say the least. Hopefully he'd be calmer in the morning.

Junkrat shifts into his side once again, trying to find the most comfortable position to he can manage without waking the other. While his side is hardly more comfortable than his back, it'll simply have to do, and Junkrat lets his eyes drift closed. As he relaxes he can feel himself giving into the lull of exhaustion, and just when he's finally about to fall asleep—

—he feels two arms snake across his chest and a head press against his upper back, and someone humming contently at the contact.

_Lúcio._

And now Junkrat's _wide awake_ , shifting in place as much as he can to try and look back at the other, but only succeeding in getting a _still-sleeping_  Lúcio to tighten his hold on him and _**wow**  he's much stronger than he looks_.  
Unsure what else to do, Junkrat grabs hold of Lúcio's arms and shakes them, trying to either loosen his grip or wake him up, and also moved to shove the other's shoulder with his palm.

" _Lúcio!!_ "

He hisses, alternating between the two actions.

" _Lúcio wake up!!!_ "

An undignified groan of annoyance emerges from the other's throat, and Junkrat feels Lúcio shift just slightly against his back.

" _What_."

"Gt' off 'a me!"

"No."

Eyes widen, and Junrkat uses all the force he can to wiggle out of Lúcio's grip to try and face the other, but only manages to succeed in craning his neck uncomfortably.

"Wh-wh' th' hell d'ya _mean_  'no', lemme go 'n stop _huggn'_  me 'n yer' sleep!"

"No, tired..."

Lúcio's voice is low and full of exhaustion, his words half-formed and slurred together. It's entirely evident he's only half-awake, which is _certainly_  not awake enough to care about Junkrat's opinion of his sleep-cuddling. _Terrific_.

"A' don't _care_  if yer tired, so 'm I! Now _Let. Me. Go._ "

Junkrat can feel his head shaking against his back, followed by a slurred grumble that was probably the word 'no', and, as if to spite him, tightens his hug around him.  
Junkrat wants to scream in frustration.

"Ths', ths' 's real weird y'kno', cuddln' smone' 'n ther' sleep like tha'. 'S gay n' such, y'kno'."

"Mmmaybe...your culture— not, Brazilian culture..."

He's not buying that for one second, not even one. Sure, Brazilian culture, from what he's seen, is much more affectionate than what he's used to, but this is ridiculous. This is Lúcio being stubborn, sure as hell isn't a cultural thing.

"Yer lyin'."

"Nhn, 'm not..."

"Yea' ya' ar'! Ths' ain' no cultural thin' now lemme go!"

"Mmno, go to sleep,"

"Let me go Lúcio."

"Gnight Jami..."

"Lúcio- Lúcio don' ya _dare_  go back t' sleep— _Lúcio!!_ "

Unfortunately, the rhythmic breaths from before have begun to emerge from the other once again, indicating that he has, in fact, gone back to sleep.

_Well ain't that just **fanfuckintastic**._

A rather loud groan of annoyance, followed by a few more feverish attempts to push Lúcio off of him, all of which went in vain because for _some reason_ Lúcio possesses an iron grip.  
After finally accepting that there's no way for him to get out of the hug, Junkrat finally gives up, letting out a defeated sigh. He's hardly a fan of close contact, and _hugs_  are practically an alien concept.

He lets himself lie motionless once again, listening to the soft sounds of the drumming rain paired with Lúcio's breathing. Ha, even his _breathing_ is musical. How perfect. It's...a rather soothing mix actually...very rhythmic, _peaceful_...hmm, the embrace isn't _all_  that bad...the warmth and contact is, _kinda nice actually_...maybe he can put up with it...just tonight...yeah, just tonight...

And with the rhythm of the rain and Lúcio's breathing in his ears, Junkrat finally fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> "When the inhuman screech of shock from Lúcio at the discovery that he'd been _cuddling Junkrat in his sleep_ hits his ears as a gloriously comedic excuse for an alarm clock, Junkrat knows that choosing sleep in the end was most definitely the correct decision."


End file.
